


Dangerously Boiling Hot Explicit Tea

by QueenofThyme



Series: Hot Tea [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consent is Sexy, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Consent, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofThyme/pseuds/QueenofThyme
Summary: The smutty sequel to Hot Tea.Things get heated after their first kiss, and Harry discovers some strange kinks of Mallfoy's, and maybe some even stranger ones of his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING. TURN BACK NOW IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SMUT OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE.
> 
> Note: This is a sequel to [Hot Tea](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10259276). It can be read as standalone but some references will likely puzzle you.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become heated. Harry wants to say it is Malfoy’s doing, but it’s a difficult proposal to back when he has the other man pressed up against a wall, when he is kissing and sucking at the other’s lips in frenzy, and especially when he is the one whose hands have drifted down and are now hovering at the forefront of Malfoy’s hips, very obviously near his crotch. Although Harry will still swear he has no idea how his traitorous hands got there. 

He must hover for too long because Malfoy gets impatient and shifts his hips to the side slightly, just enough to graze his erection of the back of Harry’s left hand. Harry immediately withdraws, taking a step back. His own reaction to Malfoy’s arousal frightens him a little. He has never felt so much heat with anyone before. If he was to let his body take over, he’d probably be dry-humping Malfoy right now, but he isn’t his body. He has to be careful. Malfoy is in love with him. He doesn’t want to ruin it by having sex too soon. They’ve barely even been on one date.

Malfoy is staring at Harry expectedly and he realises he should probably explain his thoughts so his withdrawal isn’t taken as a rejection. It’s certainly not that at all. “Shouldn’t we…er…leave this until next week?” is all Harry manages to get out, which is a start at least.

“We can always do it again next week, if you like,” Malfoy says with a wink from where he leans lazily against the wall.

Harry tries to ignore how that wink seems to go straight to his groin. Malfoy really wants to do this, and just who is Harry kidding? So does he. But he still can’t help but hesitate – is he really going to have sex on their first date?

Malfoy’s face softens – something Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to – and he looks at Harry seriously. “You can leave at any time, Potter. I’d never force you into anything but” – his eyes glaze over, his head falls back against the wall behind – “fuck, I want you, I want you right now.”

Harry is helpless as his eyes sweep over Malfoy – the lidded eyes, the lolled head, the cocked hip, and the very clear protrusion behind his light robe. “Oh,” he breathes. So yes, he really is going to do this. 

“Not leaving?” Malfoy asks, struggling to hide a smirk.

“No,” Harry responds automatically as he tries to keep his eyes focused on Malfoy’s face, and his face alone. 

Malfoy smiles. “Thank Merlin.” Stepping forward, he grabs a forceful hold of Harry’s t-shirt, and pulls him back into their earlier position, his eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth. 

“Malfoy,” Harry starts to say before Malfoy can reach his lips, and then he pauses as a thought occurs to him: “…sorry, should I be calling you Draco now?”

Looking put out that another kiss has been delayed, Malfoy’s speaks quickly. “No, Potter, it’s hotter when you say my last name.” He leans in again, impatience clear, but Harry pulls his head back.

“Really? Why?”

“It’s how I imagined it. Back in school.” Malfoy rushes before managing to finally reach Harry’s lips. It only lasts a moment though. Harry brings up a hand to the back of Malfoy’s head, closing over soft platinum hair and pulls back gently, letting their lips tear apart. 

He raises an eyebrow at Malfoy, curious to hear more about how he “imagined it”. “Go on.” He urges, keeping a firm grip of Malfoy’s hair so he doesn’t get any ideas about distracting Harry again. 

“Potter…”

Although he can’t say he shares the same preference for his last name being used, Harry immediately takes a liking to the pleading note of Malfoy’s voice. It almost makes him give in and kiss Malfoy. It’s not like he doesn’t want to. But he can’t just ignore Malfoy’s earlier words. He needs to know what he meant. “I won’t continue until you tell me.” Harry challenges, realising as he says it that it comes out a little more forceful than intended. 

Malfoy’s eyes close. “Fuck.”

Harry immediately falters. His hand falls from Malfoy’s head. “Or if you feel uncomfortable we could just – “

“No, Potter, “Malfoy interrupts, his eyes flinging back open, “don’t take it back. It’s hot.”

“What is?”

“You…” Malfoy bites his lip and looks past Harry to avoid eye contact, “…in control.”

“Oh.” Harry’s eyes widen. “You like that?” He asks uncertainly.

“Fuck yes.” A shy smile crosses Malfoy’s lips, as his eyes dart back to Harry’s face. 

“Right,” Harry takes a steadying breath, “then tell me about your school fantasies right now.”

Malfoy does probably the worst thing possible when you’re trying to enact someone else’s fantasy for them – he laughs. “Merlin, Potter, you don’t have to go overboard. You sound like my mother.”

Harry winces. He supposes it hadn’t come out as sexy as he had hoped. He’s not really sure what he’s doing at all, if he’s honest. “So that’s a bad thing?” He asks to confirm, because he doesn’t want to assume anything. Who knows what Draco Malfoy is into?

“Yes, it’s a fucking bad thing!” Malfoy all but yells back at him. Okay, definitely not into that. Good. “Merlin, Potter. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Harry yells back, his quick temper flaring. He can’t believe Malfoy is turning this around on him. “I’m trying to make this good for you, you bastard.”

“Yes,” Malfoy closes his eyes, his lips curled up on one side, “like that.”

“Wait, I wasn’t…” Harry stops himself. Had Harry accidentally stumbled across some absurd kink? Why would Malfoy enjoy being yelled at? “You liked that?” He questions in disbelief.

Malfoy nods, his eyes still closed. “Yes, tell me I’m a bastard again.”

“Um…you’re a bastard?” Harry says awkwardly, not liking how the words feel in his mouth. 

Malfoy hums in contentment, and he reaches his hands out blindly to Harry’s face, delicately stroking Harry’s cheekbones when he finds them. It’s very sweet and a very odd reaction to being called a bastard. 

“Malfoy?”

“Potter.” Malfoy whispers in response, his hands tightening around Harry’s face and drawing him closer.

“No,” Harry’s arms come up to wrap around Malfoy’s wrist, “stop.”

Malfoy’s arms drop, taking Harry’s with them. “What? Why?” He asks, his eyes back open, searching Harry’s face.

“I can’t do this.”

“You can’t – what’s wrong?” Malfoy asks, his face immediately etched with worry, which further validates Harry’s conviction. How can he call someone like that a bastard again?

“I don’t want to insult you.” Harry says. His arms are still wrapped around Malfoy’s wrists, now hanging loosely between them. 

Malfoy shrugs. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry isn’t buying that. Not one bit. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then why do you get so turned on by it?”

“I…it…I don’t know. It’s just hot.” Malfoy licks his lips unapologetically and stares in Harry in a way that must be illegal. It’s just hot?

Yes, sure, Malfoy’s reaction to Harry’s words was hot. No way is Harry going to even try and pretend otherwise. But, the idea of Malfoy getting off to something hurtful, that he wants Harry to be hurtful towards him, isn’t something he finds hot. Not at all. Especially not with their history. 

Harry uncurls his fingers from Malfoy’s wrists and slides them down to link hands. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Malfoy looks down at their hands and smiles. “Yes, I put that together when you asked me on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Harry says quickly, even though it doesn’t really matter anymore. 

“Sure.”

“It was…nevermind.” Harry stops himself from arguing the point. He’ll win that one another day. Right now he has to make Malfoy understand. “I don’t want to say hateful things to you. I like you.”

“You called me a bastard earlier,” Malfoy challenges, looking back up at Harry.

Harry frowns. He wishes Malfoy wouldn’t remind him. He’s not proud of his temper. “I shouldn’t have. I was mad.”

Malfoy’s unclasps his hands from Harry’s. They both watch as he trails his fingers slowly along the sides of Harrys arms. “Get mad then.” He whispers as he pauses at the sleeves of Harry’s t-shirt.

Harry scrunches up his face. “You want me to be mad when” – at this moment, Malfoy grabs hold of Harry’s shirt and yanks him forward so that there is no distance remaining between them, and Harry completely loses his train of thought – “when…we….when we…”

“Fuck?” Malfoy happily finishes for him, his arms wrapping around Harry to rest behind his neck, their faces close enough to count every freckle, not that Malfoy has any of course. “Merlin, yes.”

Harry tries to stare back at Malfoy calmly, but there’s not much he can do to counteract his ragged breath or the pounding of his heartbeat which he is certain could be heard from across the room. “I would have said make love but…” 

Malfoy’s eyebrows twitch upwards but he is smiling as he replies. “Whoa Potter, no wonder you’re so hung up on this. Sometimes sex can just be sex.”

“So this doesn’t mean anything to you?” Harry asks slowly, the cogs in his mind working overtime to try and catch up with Malfoy’s words. Everything he says seems to be a contradiction. 

Malfoy’s smile drops instantly, his eyebrows following in sync as if attached by an invisible string. For a moment Harry thinks he is about to be yelled at again, but despite his face, Malfoy’s voice is soft and serious as he replies. “This means everything to me.”

Okay, sure. If Harry wasn’t already lost, now even a map wouldn’t help him. “Then, why – “

“We can have the tender romantic love later when we’re an old married couple, but right now, we’re young, I don’t know about you but I’m fucking horny, and I want you more than ever. You’re not exactly running out the door, so I’m guessing you want me too, right?”

“Yes, I suppose – “

“You suppose? Potter, I was being coy for your sake with that last comment.” Malfoy presses forward with his groin in the smallest movement. “I can feel your hard-on.”

Harry blushes, despite being able to feel Malfoy’s erection in return. That really should balance things out but somehow Harry still feels embarrassed. He pretends not to notice Malfoy’s eyes darting down to his cheekbones. “Fine, I want you. But I’m not going to insult you, and I’m not going to get mad…but if you want me to…you know…then I’m sure I can work something out for you.” Harry isn’t exactly sure what he’s offering at this point but from the way Malfoy’s face immediately lights up, he is very glad he has.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Malfoy clearly tries to say seriously through the wide grin on his face. “We can stop at any time.”

“You’re not going to want me to stop though are you?”

“What?” Malfoy looks confused. Does he have to be more obvious? Merlin. 

“I can see how desperate you are for it, Malfoy.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Malfoy’s turn to blush, but despite the tell-tale pinkness on his tall cheekbones, he really doesn’t seem embarrassed at all when he continues: “Yes, like that.”

Harry starts to worry his words may be coming across a little too aggressive. “But actually if you do want me to stop, just say and – “

“Shut up, Potter,” Interrupts Malfoy laughing at him. Still, Harry is glad he said something. He’s happy to be embarrassed if only to make Malfoy know that he is safe with him. It’s important, and he knows it’s important to Malfoy too because, despite his laughter now, he’d basically said the same thing to Harry.

Harry isn’t sure what is supposed to come next. It seems as if Malfoy is waiting for him to make a move, which would be fine of course, if he could think of any moves at all. His mind is completely and utterly blank. Malfoy continues to stare and his tongue darts out to wet his slightly parted lips. Okay then. 

Entranced and eager to follow Malfoy’s tongue, Harry allows himself a short break from this weird dirty talk-esque situation by leaning in for a kiss. Malfoy doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as he takes up Harry’s lips easily, and his hands are in Harry’s messy hair all at once. Harry is very pleased to find he doesn’t need to chase Malfoy’s tongue, that it is ready and waiting for him as soon as their mouths meet. 

So focused on the feel of Malfoy’s glorious tongue, Harry doesn’t even realise he is grinding up against Malfoy, basically humping him against the wall in a very undignified manner – reminiscent of The WiggleTM - until he hears a breathy moan between kisses. He pulls himself back to get a better look at Malfoy. His face is flushed, eyelids fluttering lazily, lips parted and red, so very red. Had Harry done that?

In the absence of Harry’s grinding, Malfoy has taken it upon himself to rut up against Harry impatiently. The vision is utterly obscene and not appropriate to be compared to The WiggleTM at all. 

Seeing Malfoy so desperate gives Harry the inspiration to continue. “Tell me you want me.” He says, having to deliberately suppress the automatic rise of his voice at the end of the sentence. It is supposed to be an order, not a question, but it all still seems a little unnatural.

Malfoy licks his lips – does he know how wonderful his tongue is? Is he purposefully teasing? “I want you.” He whispers.

Now that’s something that doesn’t sound unnatural at all. Harry could listen to Malfoy say that endlessly. He rallies his confidence. “Tell me again.”

Malfoy smiles playfully this time. “I want you.”

“Again,” Harry says before he can help himself. 

“Fuck, I want you.” Malfoy says, loudly now, the breath of his voice tickling Harry’s lips, tempting him to go back in for another kiss. But he has plenty of time for that. There’s something that’s been on his mind for a while.

“Now about these fantasies…” He starts, watching Malfoy’s reaction curiously. 

“You won’t like them.” Malfoy says with an obviously forced shrug. 

Of course, now Harry only wants to hear them more. “Try me.”

Malfoy shakes his head but obliges anyway. Harry has a feeling there’s not much Malfoy will refuse him. He must be careful not to take advantage. “They start with us fighting –“

“Fighting?” Harry repeats, thinking he must have heard wrong. 

“Dueling,” Malfoy corrects, not that it particularly helps. “You’re firing hexes at me and – “

“Why am I trying to hex you?” Harry asks. Of course, it sounds exactly like something they’d do in high school, but hardly something to fantasise about.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and Harry gets the impression he is holding back an I told you so. “Because that’s what we do, Potter. We – “

“Did.” Harry interrupts quickly. “I won’t hex you anymore.” He adds seriously. Malfoy has to know that. 

“Relax, I’m not asking you to. It’s just a fantasy.”

Still, for Malfoy to think of him in such a violent manner. It’s a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t like it.”

“I told you you wouldn’t.” There it is. Harry knew it was coming. 

Despite his discomfort at the violence, Harry is still curious to hear where the fantasy leads, and also wanting to encourage Malfoy to remain open with him. “So what happens after that?

Malfoy looks surprised. “You still want to know?”

“Yes.”

Malfoy doesn’t look overly convinced but continues regardless. “Then you have me pinned up against a wall, your wand sticking – “

“Does it have to be my wand?” Harry interrupts in an attempt to divert some of the violence. He punctuates the not so subtle implication with a quick jerk of his hips.

Malfoy sticks his tongue out playfully– he must realise he’s teasing. “While I appreciate the contribution, that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the fantasy.”

Harry rips his eyes away from Malfoy’s mouth. “Sorry. Go on.”

“So your wand is sticking into my neck. You tell me you hate me and –“

“I told you I don’t hate you.” Harry says quickly. This upsets him more than the duelling. Why would Malfoy want Harry to hate him?

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I know. It’s the fantasy. Stop interrupting.”

Fantasy or not, Harry worries it’s a little dark and potentially unhealthy for Malfoy to get off on something so negative. “But I don’t like you thinking – “

“I’m not. It’s a fantasy, Potter. It’s not real.” Malfoy is starting to look a little impatient. 

“But you shouldn’t - ”

“Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t do, Potter, “ Malfoy says, his eyes flashing. “I know you think that I’m fragile. That you might say the wrong thing and I’ll fall apart.”

“That’s not – “

“It is!” Malfoy yells, silencing Harry, before continuing in a softer tone. “But you need to stop worrying about me. If I tell you I like something, you need to trust I know what I’m talking about. I know my own boundaries and I’m telling you this because I trust you. So please trust me.”

“Okay.” Harry wants to say more, to argue but even though he still does not ultimately agree, he can see there is some truth in Malfoy’s words. He lets it go. He decides to trust Malfoy. 

Malfoy searches Harry’s face for a moment, as if trying to confirm if Harry is being genuine or not. He must decide on the former because he nods and then continues on with the telling of his fantasy as if there were no interruption. “You tell me you hate me and you look like you’re about to curse me, but you’re so close to me, our bodies our flushed, and you start to feel how hard I am.” Just in case the words aren’t clear enough, Malfoy also applies more pressure with his groin, pushing his erection ever harder into Harry.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Oh.” He says a little breathlessly. Now they’re getting somewhere.

“So you like this now?”

Harry shrugs, pretending to act indifferent. “This part I don’t mind so much.”

Malfoy laughs and shifts his hips, consequently making his own erection rub up against Harry’s. It’s very difficult to keep up the pretence of indifference when you can feel another guy’s dick on your dick, and sure enough, Harry fails miserably, letting out a short involuntary moan. Malfoy must be pleased with this, because he starts to grind up against Harry, his hands holding onto black hair for support.

Harry stands still and watches Malfoy. It’s not that he doesn’t have any desire to join in, far from it, but because Malfoy using Harry to get himself off , without any real help from Harry, he finds, frankly, fucking hot. Malfoy is just grinding desperately against him, and Harry doesn’t mind if he never stops. 

“It’s your cue now.” Malfoy prompts in between ragged breaths.

Harry wonders what Malfoy expects. “I’m still not going to say I hate you.”

“No, tell me how desperate I am again. Tell me how much of a slut I am for you.”

Harry hesitates. He can’t deny Malfoy’s apparent desperation is turning him on, but that word seems awfully negative. “Slut? You really want me to call you that?”

Malfoy pauses his hips – to Harry’s disappointment – and stares at Harry seriously. “Harry, trust me.”

And Harry does. “Say that again.”

“What? Slut?”

“No, my name.”

“Oh.” Malfoy smiles and leans up by Harry’s ear. “Harry,” he whispers slowly, his breath cool in Harry’s ear. He leans back. “You like that?”

Harry is sure his face answers that question obviously, but he opens his eyes, which had fluttered shut of their own will, and confirms anyway. “Yes, if I call you a slut, will you never stop calling me Harry?”

“Harry. Harry. Harry.” Malfoy says, his eyes locked with Harry’s. Harry lets the words wash over him. He’s never heard anyone say his name quite so wonderfully. It’s a stark contrast to the way Malfoy says his last name. Harry must admit he enjoys hearing Potter from Malfoy’s lips as well, but this, this is bliss. 

Harry realises it’s his turn to live up his part of the bargain, but surprisingly he’s not so reluctant any more. “You’re awfully hard, Malfoy.” He teases, despite being in a similar position himself. 

Harry can see Malfoy’s internal battle as he stops himself from biting back. “Yes.”

“Who made you this hard?”

Malfoy huffs like he thinks it’s a stupid question, but this doesn’t stop him from answering eagerly a fraction of a second later. “You.”

Harry tries to hold back a smile. He’s enjoying this a little more than he thinks he should and he’s not sure if he wants Malfoy to know that quite yet. “You really are a slut for me, aren’t you?” Harry can hardly believe the words are coming out of his own month. 

“Yes.”

“I bet you’d do anything I told you, wouldn’t you, slut?”

Malfoy exhales and the air tickles Harry’s lips. “Fuck, yes.”

Realising what he’s just said – he needs to tell his libido to calm the fuck down – and pairing that with Malfoy’s answer, Harry feels a little uncomfortable. “But if there’s anything you don’t want to do, maybe we should have a safe word?”

“Potter, you’re ruining it.”

“I just need to make you’re okay with everything.” He can’t bear the thought of pressuring Malfoy into anything.

“That’s lovely and classic Harry Potter, but we don’t need a safe word. A safe word only works when putting up a fight is part of the roleplay, and believe me, if I say no, it sure as hell means no. When I say stop, it means fucking stop. And If I say get the fuck away from me, you can bet it means get the fuck away from me.” 

“Right.” Harry feels a little silly for suggesting a safeword now. Malfoy is clearly more experienced in this area.

“Harry,” Malfoy says softly – merlin, just to hear his name spoken like that, “thank you. You know you can say no at any time as well of course.

Harry nods. He realises he could really fall for Draco Malfoy. 

“Harry, tell me I’m a slut again.” Or Malfoy could just be the death of him.

“Slut,” Harry says, trying to ignore how the foul word fits perfectly in his mouth.

Malfoy hums and plants a kiss on Harry’s cheek. So. Fucking. Sweet. 

“Slut,” Harry says again, louder. 

“Yes,” Malfoy whispers, “yes.”

“Turn around.” The order is out of Harry’s mouth before he’s really thought it through. The simple words sound a lot dirtier in context. 

Malfoy is very quick to obey, shuffling between Harry and the wall to try and rotate his body. Harry takes a step back to allow Malfoy better movement and immediately feels the loss. Malfoy turns fully and braces his hands against the wall, his back arched a little suggestively. Fuck. 

Harry steps back in and lightly runs his hands down Malfoy’s side, all the way down to the tops of his thighs, and back up. Malfoy shivers. Harry feels himself do the same in response. Having Malfoy so eager and willing for him is turning him on more than he will ever admit to. 

Harry’s hands run down Malfoy’s arms and rest below his elbows. He pushes upwards slightly and whispers into Malfoy’s ear, “Up.” Malfoy responds immediately and without question, his hands in the air above his head. Merlin, will he really do anything Harry wants?

Trying to calm himself, Harry takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to rush anything, but at the same time he can barely wait himself. He could magic them both naked in a second but he knows the slower they go, the better it will ultimately be. He has to be patient. 

Harry’s hands trail back down along Malfoy’s sides again, but this time they continue past his thighs. He has to bend a little to reach the end of Malfoy’s long black robe. Once in his grip, he starts the slow, painful journey back up, ensuring the fabric brushes up against Malfoy lightly the whole way.

Malfoy is wearing black slacks which Harry could already see where the robe ended, but he is surprised to find, when he reaches back up past Malfoy’s hips, that he is not wearing a shirt underneath, not even a singlet. This puts a momentary hold on Harry’s patience – he yanks the robe off over Malfoy’s head and his hands are back to exploring the sides of Malfoy’s torso, but this time on bare skin. 

Malfoy’s arms are still stretched above his head. Harry smiles at that. Merlin, he feels powerful, more than he’s ever felt before. Even when he defeated Voldemort, he never felt powerful, only lucky. Now, he feels powerful and lucky. Oh so very lucky. 

Harry’s hands slide around to Malfoy’s chest, exploring hungrily. He lightly brushes over Malfoy’s nipples and hears a soft breathy whimper. He does it again. 

“Harry.”

He draws circles around Malfoy’s nipples now, teasing, getting as close as he can without touching.

“Please.”

Fuck, Harry likes the sound of that. Is that sadistic of him? He isn’t sure. He keeps teasing.

“Harry, please.”

He can’t deny Malfoy any longer, especially when his name is whispered so erotically. He lets his fingers brush over Malfoy’s nipples again, but this time he doesn’t move away, he brushes back and forth, gently but erratically. Malfoy’s responding whimper and heaving breathing provides the most beautiful encouragement. 

Harry dips his head and plants soft kisses on the side of Malfoy’s neck, all the while still playing with his nipples. Malfoy’s whole body seems to be shivering under his touch. It’s magnificent.

Emboldened by Malfoy’s reactions, Harry lets his hand sink lower on his chest, running past the scars on his torso – that Harry desperately hope don’t appear in any of those high school fantasies – and directly to the bulge in Malfoy’s slacks.

He rubs the heel of his hand against Malfoy’s cock through the material, enjoying the way Malfoy moans and pushes into his touch. “Slut,” he whispers in what would be an affectionate tone if the word didn’t completely negate it. Malfoy shows his appreciation by jerking up even harder into Harry’s hand.

Harry’s trying to be patient, but Merlin, how is he supposed to resist Draco Malfoy? There’s nothing for it. He can’t help himself. He grabs at the edge of Malfoy’s pants eagerly with both hands and pulls apart the buttons carelessly. As soon as enough buttons part, he’s pulling the slacks down Malfoy’s legs, only getting them to his knees before trailing his hands back up to grasp the side of Malfoy’s underwear. He’s about to give them the same treatment as Malfoy’s pants when he has a better idea. He drops his hands.

“Take them off,” he orders Malfoy. 

Malfoy leans down and starts pulling on his pants as if to remove them from his legs completely, but Harry stops him.

“No. Your underwear. Take your underwear off.” He clarifies. He rather likes seeing Malfoy with his pants hanging around his knees, and he’s sure he’ll like what he sees even more when the underwear follow suit.

Malfoy’s hands reach around to the sides of his underwear and pause there, with his fingers under the hem. Harry suspects he is doing it to tease. “Now,” he demands, and Malfoy doesn’t need to be told again. He yanks the underwear down in one motion, letting them fall to his knees, hanging loosely over his pants. Harry is disappointed he wasn’t more dramatic about it. That he didn’t pull them down tantalisingly slow. Then again, that’s probably what he had planned to do if Harry hadn’t been so impatient.

Still, tantalising show or not, a naked Draco Malfoy in front of you is still a naked Draco Malfoy in front of you. Harry’s hands are on Malfoy’s arse before he is fully aware of them, they’re rubbing and kneading all at once like he’s giving Malfoy a massage or something. In truth, he just isn’t sure what he’s doing, he just knows he wants to touch Draco Malfoy’s butt. Is there anything wrong with that? 

So distracted by Malfoy’s arse, he momentarily forgets about Malfoy’s cock, hidden from sight by Malfoy’s body, but now completely naked. He lets his hands snake around and wastes no more time in getting his hands on Malfoy’s dick. Malfoy gasps and his head falls back up against Harry, lolling onto his shoulder. 

With difficulty (that is certainly worth it) Harry tilts his head at a strained angle to kiss Malfoy as he strokes Malfoy’s cock as fast as his wrist will allow him. Malfoy moans into their kiss and Harry feels like he might lose himself right there just from the bliss of Malfoy’s arousal. It’s absolutely ridiculous and does not make any sense, but when Malfoy comes shortly after, Harry swears he can feel it coursing through him too, like they are connected in some way. So dazed in what he thinks is empathetic spiritual orgasmic bliss, Harry doesn’t realise until a few minutes later that he has merely cum in his trousers. 

Not wanting to share this little fact with Malfoy yet, he pulls him in for a soft, distracting kiss. It should just be like any other kiss. But it’s not this time. Because Harry Potter might just be starting to fall in love with Draco Malfoy too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://queenofthyme.tumblr.com/) for more drabbles and things or check out my other works on ao3 <3  
>   
> More like this:  
> [In your dreams, Potter. (5k)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11509194)  
> [#3#word#prompts (1-5k each)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116073)


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